


Theatre

by bissonomy (Macdicilla)



Series: Old Kings of Quirm 'verse [2]
Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Loss of Faith, Loss of Pride, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-17 23:56:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18109106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdicilla/pseuds/bissonomy
Summary: Angua finds out the truth and loses some respect for her commander.





	Theatre

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't fit in the other fic, because it was just about Sybil and her perspective. Consider this a deleted scene.

“Unbelievable,” Angua snarls. “All those stupid new restrictions, new requirements, budget cuts–and you were in a position to do something about it.”

“That’s not how it works,” says Vimes, warningly.

“No,” she says, raising her voice, “apparently how it works is, onstage, you say ‘ugh, the bastard, but we have to comply,’ or you’ll have a row with him onstage, but offstage, hey! You’re, I don’t know, helping each other change and it’s all just _fine_! I hate theatre. There have been actual problems that you could have used your influence to solve, but you just let him fuck the Watch over, because you also let him–”

“That’s enough!”

He rises to his feet and his chair makes a horrible grinding sound as he pushes it back.

Angua looks him in the eyes. He’s angry now, but it’s the cold kind of anger that has gone all the way into furnace and has come out cool on the other side. Luckily, she’s not the kind of person who has gotten this far by being afraid of angry men.

“I don’t want the promotion,” she says calmly.

Vimes blinks.

“Relocate me. The new watch house in Dolly Sisters needs a captain, doesn’t it?”

“Angua,” he says gently, “the work you do here is–”

“Is going to have to be somewhere else from now on, sir.”

He sighs. “I can’t relocate Carrot too.”

“I didn’t ask you to. And I’m not going to tell him. He needs something to believe in, even if for some damn reason, it’s you.”

Vimes sits down and crosses his hands together. He looks contrite, almost.

“What would–” he stops, thinks, grimaces, and says, “Is there anything that would make you consider staying on?”

Angua sighs too.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I wish there was.”

 

 


End file.
